


The words

by Weisse_Rose



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem, Fix-It, M/M, Season/Series 04, sort of, things dont really get fixed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 04:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9368141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weisse_Rose/pseuds/Weisse_Rose
Summary: In which Sherlock is forced to confess his love, but not to Molly.





	

They entered the next room, bracing themselves for whatever new horrors might await them.

The room was bare except for a large screen, displaying the ever-present image of Eurus.

"Now, this one is very easy. I will walk you through it. You're going to have a conversation. You're going to tell the person you love about your feelings. Simple as that."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the screen. "What if I refuse?"

"Well, I kill that person, obviously. Or somebody else. I thought you'd have caught on by now to the fact that I'm rather unpredictable." With that, the image of his sister disappeared. Instead the screen now showed two photos. Irene Adler and Molly Hooper. The words _Who Ya Gonna Call_ were flashing on and off in bright red letters above them.

Sherlock stared at the screen in horror. Mycroft's eyes flickered from the screen to Sherlock, then to John.

Seconds ticked by, the light of the room flashing to red several times. Then his sister reappeared on the screen. 

"Tick tock, Sherlock. What will it be?"

Sherlock stared at the screen pleadingly, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists.

"Don't make me do this. Please."

Eurus just smiled at him. "No rest for the wicked, brother." Her image vanished again, and was replaced by a large number. 

_20_. After a second, it changed. _19_. _18_. _17._

"For the love of God, just get it over with." Mycroft sounded exasperated, but there was also a note of pity in his voice. 

Sherlock knelt down, running his hands through his hair, trying to work up the nerve for what he was about to do.

_14_. _13_. _12_. 

He took a deep breath, then he stood up again, turning to face John. 

"John. There's something I should have told you a long time ago, but was always to cowardly to admit." 

John gasped. He took a small step backwards and stared at Sherlock, eyes wide with shock or possibly fear. 

_7_. _8_. 

Sherlock took another deep breath and tried to focus. "I- I-" For a terrible moment he was certain that he would not be able to get the words out, that his cowardice would cost John his life. 

He closed his eyes and opened a door in his mind palace that he had barred for a long time, and with good reason. Behind it was the memory of him and John, in the hallway at Baker street, giddy from the chase, laughing. Sherlock smiled. 

_4_. _3_. _2_. 

He opened his eyes and looked at John. "I love you." 

John just stared at him in shock. 

"Well done, brother. You get a reward." The voice of the girl on the plane reappeared, pleading with them to help her. 

Sherlock concentrated on her, on getting more information. Anything to avoid looking at the expression on John's face for another second. 

After a short conversation, the voice cut off abruptly and the door to another room opened. 

Mycroft looked from one of them to the other and stepped through without uttering another word. 

Sherlock stared at the floor, focussed on regaining his balance. This was far from over. From the corner of his eye, he saw John starting to leave the room. The doctor walked briskly, his shoulders squared. He looked very much like a soldier going into battle.

When the other man passed him, Sherlock's hand shot out, almost instinctively, grabbing him by the arm, stopping him short. Sherlock collected what remained of his courage and lifted his eyes to meet John's.

The other man's expression was unreadable to him. There was a swirl of emotions, hidden behind a carefully blank mask. But Sherlock couldn't, for the life of him, figure out what they were.

He let go of John's arm and, after holding his gaze for a second longer, John broke away and followed Mycroft.

Sherlock watched him go, for all his skills unable to predict what would happen next, what this would mean for them. He tried to order his thoughts as best he could, suppressing the surge of emotions and insecurities this room had brought out in him. Now was not the time. They would deal with this later. He followed the other two into the next room.


End file.
